It's getting hard to listen to the man sitting across from you, because the day drinker crowd is in full steam. You lean forward, forearm sticking to the table covered in the gluey mix of spilled alcohol and patron sweat. 

"Ah sure now, some of the loggers have gotten themselves into a lather, and now the whole operation's gone to shite. They're a superstitious lot, and they have a fear of that part of the jungle. Queer goings on, n'such. Ancient objects and buildings appearing at dusk, gone the next day and whatnot. I logged these forests meself for an age before scraping together for me own plot, and never saw a strange sight. Them feedin off each other's fears, plus that grog they drink? Imagining the maddest things, like every one of 'em's a stranger to reason! Paw! Never seen the beatin' of it! They should be them, whatchacallsit? Story writers. I'd fire the lot if time was my friend at the minute."

The fancy logger interrupts his narrative to tap used tobacco from his pipe, reload, and light up. Through teeth clenched on his pipe, he levels "I just want my man returned so t'others can get back to work, since that bleedin' log boat's here in a fortnight and it'd be a pretty mess if I came up shy!"

He finally sits back and takes a long drag on his pipe, observing you with his one good eye through a thick fog of pipe smoke. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and says "How bout it? You've need for gold, I've need for a man returned safely, what say ye? Go under the roots and find 'em?"

***

Though it's been a few days, this logger is still obviously shaken. He stares motionless at a spot on the table just in front of you. He speaks in a soft, flat monotone, the only emotion an occassional shudder.

"Clearin' the stump of a giant Oovarut tree was we, as I said to Mr. Covar. Biggest I've seen in a while, and eventually up it comes, but the roots have bricks and tiles among their number. A big gapin' hole in the ground, black bottom, cold. At first it felt a relief from the jungle, but then..."

"I blink and quick as a jackrabbit, Festus ties some rope to the auld tree stump, the other end to hisself, lights a pitch, and in he goes. His brother's one uh them queer "adventurer" types, so, no surprise..." He looks suddenly sheepish, and looks up to meet your gaze effortfully. "No offence to present company. Just sayin' that the hot blood obviously runs in the da family for em." 

"Anyway, the three of us standing around the mouth of the hole, sayin' 'Festus don't do it!' and he like he leagues away, like he can't even hear us. I remember seeing him disappear into the darkness, and I remember the thing he says: "oooh lads, 'tis one uh dem ancient places! I see queer writing on the walls!" He looks sharp to his left, I sees his head turnin' thus and says he "there's a strong draft coming from my left....Something's coming..." Then from the hole we're looking down into belches out, like one uh them jungle volcanos, a thick black cloud. Nice 'n cool, but stench like a garbage pile. When the cloud disappears into the air, the Festus rope goes even more taut, pulls the stump toward the hole. I burned my leg on the rope pull, thus." Pointing at a long red scar on his upper calf. "Then without warning, the rope goes limp as my uncle Sam. It's no weight on it when we pull out the rope, so that's the last we saw of auld Festus and that's the last any of us have been willing to step foot into that bleedin' junge." 

Characters Provided: This event is designed to teach you how to play D&D. We will provide a selection of characters for you to pick from.

18+: Please note that this is an 18+ event and minors are not permitted to attend.

Licensed Venue: The venue we are playing at is a fully licensed establishment with a proper food and drinks menu. No outside food or drink, it is appreciated if you purchase something. Also, don’t forget to tip your server!